


The Long Way Home

by Spayne



Category: Killing Eve (TV 2018)
Genre: F/F
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-27
Updated: 2020-07-05
Packaged: 2021-03-03 22:34:32
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 8
Words: 9,508
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24943183
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Spayne/pseuds/Spayne
Summary: Villanelle is forced to take the long way home.Eve thinks that perhaps that isn’t such a bad thing.
Relationships: Eve Polastri/Villanelle | Oksana Astankova
Comments: 166
Kudos: 524





	1. Wednesday, Week One

**Author's Note:**

> This is a little lighter than my last outing. Ok. It’s a lot lighter. 
> 
> Hope it suits....

“So how do we do this? I’ve never done anything like this before?”

She pulls a face and you can’t read it. Perhaps it’s the grainy quality of the imagine or perhaps it’s yet more evidence that you don’t really know her at all. Not yet.

“Am I about to get stabbed again?” Her face is serious but you know enough to hear the teasing beneath her words.

“Don’t be an asshole. We’re done with that aren’t we?”

“You’re the one who brought it up.”

You sigh and wonder whether there will ever be a time when every conversation isn’t actually two. Probably not.

“I meant I’ve not really done this...” you gesture at the screen. “You know video....talking.”

She laughs. “That’s ok. It’s only been a thing for like two decades”

Asshole.

“So....what do we do?” You ask.

Another smile. “You tell me about your day and you listen when I tell you about mine. Then when you graduate from that there are other....activities ....to try.”   
  


It’s not a smile, it’s a smirk.

“You’re so difficult sometimes.” You don’t mean it as harshly as it now sounds. Her face freezes for a second before slipping back to casual amusement.

“You’ve got seven weeks to get better at it. Maybe by the time I’m home we’ll make it through an entire conversation.”

You huff out a laugh but a something in that sentence sticks for you.

“Where is home?”

Her eyebrows raise and she blows out a breath. The screen rolls with her and she’s on her back against the bed. How unfair that your first chance to see her from this position and you are however many miles away, and she is impossible to touch. Or maybe you’re grateful for that. You really don’t know.

“You want to get to the heavy stuff so soon?”

“You left before....anything...”

“Not my choice.”

“I know that. I didn’t mean-“

She waves a hand dismissively, seemingly uninterested in getting into an argument about the position you find yourselves in.

It’s not her fault. Even you, who once tried to attribute everything bad to something she had done, can accept that this really isn’t her fault at all.

There is a price for everything Carolyn had said and she had calculated the price of peace for Villanelle would be seven weeks and presumably an imprecise amount of her soul. Then she would be free. That was the bargain. Villanelle accepted. You did nothing but watch.

You think of before. She told you what to do. You turned. You walked. Then you both turned back. She was hungry so you bought her a McFlurry on the way back to her hotel. Her hand brushed yours tentatively, cold from the finished ice cream. Your hand slipped around hers without comment. You thought with the hotel looming ahead of you that she got the message. But Carolyn was already there waiting for you both, with a change of heart and a single seat on a flight already booked, and so that was that. 

You stopped her at the door on her way out. 

“But we’ve not even….” you blurred out.

A smile ghosted across her face but she looked so fucking sad. 

“No, we haven’t. Guess we’ll have something to look forward to.”

“What if you die?”

She laughed. “Wow. Good pep talk”

“Shit. Yeah, sorry. I didn’t mean it like that.” 

She smiled again before turning back as if to leave.

“No, but actually what if you die”

She turned back toward you then, stood closer than before, still not close enough.

“I’m not going to..” She gestured vaguely between you, “just because I might die. Romantic as you are making it sound. I’m not going to die. I’m going to be a good little lap dog for seven weeks and then I’ll be back.”

She stepped into you even further and pressed a kiss to your cheek.

“Promise.” Then she was moving away and you can’t help but think you missed an opportunity. Another almost kiss squandered.

“Ok, right, sure. So, you’ll…… keep in touch?”

Another indulgent smile flitted across her features.

“Yes.”

You received a text message 38 minutes later.

  * Still not dead. Thought I should check in. Xxx



She speaks again to bring you back to the present.

“I guess I don’t have a home. I just meant when I’m back to ...you”

Jesus. What are you meant to say to that.

You’re both quiet for a time before her manner suddenly changes. She must see something in your face, you really couldn’t say what, her words force out so many things in you. They always have.

“So, tell me all about your plans to tidy up that shitty apartment for when I get back.”

“I’m actually thinking of moving.”

“Really?”

“Well it isn’t great is it.”

You pause, wondering how far to go with this, how close the string between you has tightened, and how that closeness translates into real life.

“I could....I could send you the details of where I’m looking? You could help me look, find somewhere that suits.....both of us.”

Her face is closed. This stupid fuzzy screen is shit. Could you read her better in person? You can’t really remember. Have you ever had the opportunity to just talk to each other? To learn her silences and what she doesn’t say.

“You don’t have to, if you’re busy I just thought-“

“No, no I want to. I just didn’t expect-“

She doesn’t continue.

This is too much suddenly. Too much for one week into seven and so much distance between you.

“You wanted to be an interior designer....let’s see what you’ve got”

Another unreadable face. You imagine she’s pleased that you rescued her from another too honest admission. But who knows.

“Hmm. You’re going to be impressed.”

“I often am.”

She rolls again and she’s on her front with her phone held in outstretched arms. She’s playful again and the weight of possibilities seems to have lifted.

“This is nice. Getting to know each other. Not the big things written in files but the rest of it.”

You smile. “Yeah, I think so too.”

Maybe these seven weeks aren’t the horrible burden they felt at the time. No one gets stabbed or shot over Zoom, you think ruefully. More than that though, maybe this distance is what she said, an opportunity. A way to get to know her without the stress and pressure of your normal games. A way to see if it’s only the games that you enjoy or if it’s actually the person.

“So...I’ve got a Carolyn thing to do now, but can I speak to you tomorrow?” She asks it tentatively. 

“I can’t wait.”

Her face before the call ends is a grin, toothy and sweet. 

You turn on your back, press the phone to your chest and imagine that your smile is just as sweet as hers.

—————


	2. Friday, Week Two

There is a cut above her left eye and her cheek is slightly red. You can’t stop looking at it.  


She’s on a laptop tonight, the screen static and set further away than when she uses her phone.  


A different hotel room. She must be so tired.

She’s different tonight too. She’s frenetic. Her eyes don’t stay on you in the way you’ve grown used to. You realise that she’s not really with you at the moment.

“What’s happened?”

“Nothing.”

“You’re different. What’s wrong?”

She’s focused on you now. Perhaps weighing up what answer to give.

“Bad day at the office.”

“What happened?”

Then she’s gone again, fidgety and distant.

“Nothing, just a bad day. It happens”

You sigh. You wish you were there, it would be much easier to understand what she needs from you if she was in front of you.

“What do you need?”

She looks at you blankly.

“When you’re upset like this, what do you normally do?”

A smirk, it lacks the warmth that you’ve grown used to over the last fortnight.

“Honestly?”

“Yeah.”

She shrugs a shoulder, a gesture of nonchalance.

“Normally I’d have picked someone up by now.”

“Oh. Ok.”

There’s silence.

”For sex.” She helpfully clarifies.

”Yeah. No. I guessed”

More silence.

She rolls her eyes.

“Relax ok? I’m not doing that am I? I’m here talking to you. I’m just tense. It’s fine. I’ll be fine in the morning.”

She’s giving you an out. She’s going to let you slip past this potential minefield without comment.

You just can’t help yourself.

“Does that normally help?”

Her teeth run over her bottom lip, trying and failing to hide her obvious delight at your continued line of questioning.  


Perhaps this wasn’t a good idea when she’s in this mood.Perhaps it wasn’t a good idea when you are in this mood.

“Sex? Yeah sure. Isn’t it a release for you?”

You laugh.

“From what I can remember. Is that what you need then? A release?”

When did your voice take on this smokey quality? Where are you going with this?  


You know, of course you do.

She blinks before taking a long moment to stare at you. You’ve surprised her, you realise. How satisfying.  


Her teeth pull at her bottom lip again before releasing it and the tip of her tongue teases at the corner of her mouth. God that look on her face floods you with such want and you can’t look away.

She shakes herself from her thoughts and then sighs regretfully.

“What I need is to fuck someone to burn off some stress and excess energy. Do you really want our first....whatever you’re offering.... to be about that?”

You’re a little stung by the rejection.  


“Who said I was offering anything?”

She gives you a level stare and raises her eyebrows.  


“Sure, fine. Whatever you say. Just don’t be upset, I’m trying to be sensible”

You sigh, then you balance your phone against the mirror on your desk and run your hand through your hair and look away. 

“Hey?”, she tries to get your attention.

“Ask me again when I’ve had a less shit day ok? I promise I’ll say yes.”

You look back at your phone to see she’s moved closer to her screen. 

“It’s fine. It doesn’t need to be a thing though. It could just be....” You don’t know how to ask for what you want and you are furious with yourself for floundering like this.

She fills the silence suddenly. Thank god.

“I’ve had a lot of sex like that. Something to do to change my mood. Not something that I’ve wanted to do with a specific person. Not for a long time. So yeah it doesn’t need to be a thing ...but maybe I want it to be.”

She pauses and then presses on.

“I just want sex with you to be about how much I want you not about how pissed off I am with Carolyn.”

Oh. How annoying for her to choose now to be sweet and sentimental.

“Well now I feel like a dick.”

She grins.

“Maybe. But never be embarrassed about wanting me so badly that it makes you....pushy.”

Arrogant asshole.

“What about you?”

“What about me?” You respond cautiously.

“You know…you and sex…”

You laugh. “You want to hear about sex after a decade of marriage?”

She exaggerates a shiver. 

“No. Maybe not. There hasn’t been anyone else? That whole time?”

You falter and you know she catches it.

“Eve!” She says as though equally delighted and scandalised.

“You must tell me everything!I will even pretend that I am not hurt that you would not make the same compromises for me as for this other mystery person.”

You debate whether or not to give her this. 

“Well…”

“Go on, tell me! Please?”

She’s wearing her most preposterously innocent face and you can’t help yourself. 

“In Rome-“

“In Rome!? When did you have time?”

Her voice raises several octaves and her appalled face is almost funny.

“Do you want me to tell you or not?”

She bites her bottom lip in what you guess is a gesture of acquiescence.

“In Rome, that night when you…..you know…..I listened and whilst...doing that....I fucked the boy I brought with me from the office, Hugo.”

She sits back from the screen, her face unreadable again.

Is she upset? She doesn’t have any reason to be. She is the last person who deserves your apologies.  


Regardless, you feel the excuses brewing inside you. How irritating.

“You can’t really be angry. Its like you said to me at your flat that time, I wasn’t really with him-“

“No”, She interupts you. ”You were with me.”

She gets it, you realise.

Now its your turn to be silent.

She moves back closer to the screen, she rests one arm on the desk and runs the other through her hair pulling it out of the loose ponytail she had it in. God she’s beautiful.

“You are making it very difficult for me to make sensible decisions here and I am still very pissed off with Carolyn.”

You cant find the words to respond.

“Im going to go. The next time you ask me for this I won’t say no, so have a better sense of timing ok? But now, I’m going to go and touch myself and go to sleep.”

Your voice is lower than you expected when you say it. There is no way that you could keep these words in.

“Tonight, you’ll be with me?”

She reaches toward what you guess must be the keyboard at the bottom of her screen, ready to switch it off. Her eyes flicker back to yours and you recognise her expression, it must mirror yours. 

“Always, baby.”

The screen goes blank.


	3. Thursday, Week Three

”It’s really not that big a deal. Just let me see?”

“Absolutely not.” 

She turns her face from the camera petulantly. She sits with her arms crossed, no make up and her hair twisted out of sight at the top of her head. You wonder who was the last person to see her this way. 

“Are you really going to make me say this?” 

She doesn’t respond but she does turn her face back to you.

You sigh impatiently. She really is the most annoying person in the world.

“You’re beautiful. So beautiful it’s ridiculous really. It doesn’t matter if someone did cut the layers badly you’ll still be beautiful. So ... just let me see”

That has her attention. She turns properly then and you see a shadow mottling the skin on her neck.

“What’s that? On your neck.”

Her gaze is briefly sharp before she reaches up and lets her hair down. She shakes it out and.....she’s right. The layers are terrible. 

You put a hand over your mouth. Maybe if you grip hard enough the grin won’t come.

Maybe not.

She runs a hand through it self consciously, brushing the long strands around her shoulders whilst a layer of shorter hair hangs awkwardly above it.

“So?” She asks hesitantly.

You pause considering the best way to answer this.

“You’re beautiful.”

“Oh shut up.” She swats back at you.

You laugh. 

“It’s not that bad.”

“It’s shit”

“It will grow out?” You offer up hopefully.

“I asked for long layers, _Long._ I almost put her scissors through her hand when she asked if I wanted to add a tip to the bill.”

You can’t help the shock of laughter that bubbles out of you, and it seems to lighten her mood too and she starts to laugh with you.

She wipes her eye with the pad of her thumb.

There have been times like this over the last few weeks when you are struck anew by just how fun it is, by just how much you like her. 

You like her like this. Laughing and slightly sulky. You liked her before. Calculating and extravagant. You want to pull her apart piece by piece. Have everything. Know everything.

“Why don’t you want to kill anymore?” The question comes before you really know you’ve asked it.

Her laughter ceases slowly and she tilts her head to the side to consider you.

“Why do I feel like you’ve just switched to bad cop?” 

Her tone is cool as she continues.

“I thought we were having a moment.”

“We were..we are. Sorry. I didn’t mean it to seem like ....an interrogation....”

“How long have you been wanting to ask me?”

“I already asked you. Before we danced.”

She lets out a long breath. She starts to lift her hair back up but stops herself and it falls back around her shoulders.

“I....”

She starts and stops.

“You don’t need to tell me now. Not if you don’t want to. I just...I want to know everything, but that doesn’t mean that you have to tell me.”

She looks straight at you, another face you can’t read.

“I just don’t want to anymore. I don’t like how it makes me feel. Or....” 

Another pause. She waves a frustrated hand in front of her.

“I don’t know. I don’t know how to give you what you want.”

“Did something happen?”

She’s fidgety again, she shifts in her seat. You see her visibly steel herself. Watching her shift through characters is really something to behold. You wonder which version of herself she’ll call on for this moment.

“Oh, you know. Went back to Russia. Found the family that abandoned me. Reminded myself of the reality that made me a monster. Killed my mother. The usual.”

What are you supposed to say to that. You burn with all the questions but you know that she didn’t exactly want to give you even this much. 

She starts to fidget again in the silence. 

“Just your standard traumatic family visit then.” You blurt it out unthinkingly.

Crap. That’s not the insightful and supportive comment that you wanted to find for her.

She doesn’t say anything for a second. Then she barks out a laugh, you join her. She’s lighter again, and you can’t stop the joy at knowing that it was you who did that.

“If you want to talk about it. Properly I mean...I’m here to listen or whatever you need.”

Her smile pulls at your chest. 

“Thank you.”

You smile. 

But thereis one thing you can’t leave alone.

“How many times have you done it since you decided you didn’t want to?”

She’s serious again suddenly. Her eyes so fucking sad.

“Six, maybe seven?” 

Fuck. You don’t think you could hate anyone else the way you hate Carolyn in this moment.

“Baby...” you sigh out the word. You don’t know what to say to offer her any comfort.

Even the grainy imagine on your screen does nothing to hide the sheen of tears in her eyes. She waves a hand dismissively again.

“It’s nothing. It’s a month longer, then I’m home and we can get a flat, I’ll decorate it and you’ll love it and we can just....live. It’s four weeks for the rest of my life. It’s nothing.” 

She says the last with such force that you don’t know who she is trying to convince.

She shifts then. Another character. It’s done with less grace and ease than usual but you let it pass.

“Now. Before all of that ..... you were telling me how beautiful I am. Let’s do that again.”

You allow yourself a quiet laugh.

“Fine, fine. You’re beautiful. Absolutely stunning. I could look at you forever and it wouldn’t be enough. But you have a terrible hair cut.”

She huffs. “You are a cruel woman. Much worse than me”

Something churns inside you then, despite the lightness to her tone. You think of the cut to her eye, the redness on her cheek, the half hidden bruises to her neck, your own silence and inaction when Carolyn struck her bargain.  


You wonder how true her words actually are.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> NB: Badly done layers don’t discriminate and could come for any one of us at any time. 
> 
> Even more so if you trust YouTube when it tells you it can be done at home by anyone, maybe even by someone you live with, maybe even a solicitor who’s never cut hair before and has had two glasses of wine. Its all lies.
> 
> Also, don’t buy hairdressing scissors from eBay. A real set does not cost £8.99.


	4. Friday, Week Four

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> First of all, I very much enjoyed all the hair cut chat that came from the last chapter. Thanks to all those who dropped me a line. To satisfy any lingering curiosity, I look as if I am wearing a straight cut bob wig over my normal slightly longer than shoulder length hair. So...yeah...
> 
> Now back to the reason we’re all here. I’m not quite arrogant enough to assume it’s all for revelations about my hair. This chapter assumes what I guess would be an average knowledge of James Bond, or, if you're like me, an ability to google it.
> 
> More importantly though it assumes a reasonable working knowledge of Mean Girls. 
> 
> Please don't tell me if you have to google Mean Girls. I don't know how to live in a world where everyone hasn't seen it at least twice and you'll just make me feel old.

She’s been ...chipper....all week and tonight is no exception. All of the anxiety and tension from the week before seem to have waned and now she’s ...chipper. It’s annoying.

The papers arrived through your door this morning. Unreasonable behaviour he said.

That about sums it up.

You sort of thought he might leave it two years and take the non contentious route. That’s what the Niko before would have done. He’d have found a way to politely excuse everything. This new version that you have twisted him into just wants you gone.

As fast as possible.

“Eve?”

“Sorry? What?”

“I was being funny and charming and you were not paying attention.”

“Yeah, sorry”

She leans toward the screen, her eyes probing.

“What’s going on? Are you alright?”

“Yeah it’s fine. Just carry on with whatever you were saying.”

She doesn’t. She sits very still for a long moment.

“It’s like you said to me, you don’t have to tell me things but I want to be there for you, like you say you are for me. So if you are sad I want to know why. I might even be able to help.”

It’s a thing you do. You know that. You did it with Niko. You’re doing it with her.

You know all the ways you want her to carve up her soul, her history, her future, and offer each bit up for your inspection. But you forget that she might want the same from you. You forget that it’s a two way street, that sometimes the other person in the relationship can be there to support you and there might actually be some value in that.

Maybe it’s arrogance. Maybe it’s just that you are thoughtless. Maybe it’s that you don’t like the thought of leaning on another person, relying on them to prop you up. They are your problems, your responsibility. Never mind that you would demand something different from her. It’s always easier to take than give, after all.

Ten years of marriage and you still have intimacy issues. What a fuck up you are.

You pull a hand through your hair. “Sorry. It’s....new....for us anyway...this ...intimacy. Honestly I’ve never been that good at it.”

“Ok.”

You breathe in deeply and sigh it out roughly.

“Divorce papers arrived today.”

“Oh. Ok.”

She doesn’t say anything else but looks at you questioningly.

“It’s not like I want to be married any more or....I don’t know. I know it’s over and it has been probably since .....”

That’s a sentence that doesn’t need finishing you decide.

“I don’t want it anymore but I’m ....sad... that it’s finished. Does that make sense?”

Is this something that’s allowed? Talking to your sort of girlfriend about being sad that your marriage is over?

She half smiles at you.

“More than you know. It’s normal to feel like that isn’t it? You thought your life would be one way. It doesn’t turn out like that, you don’t want to go back but you’re sad to have lost the...certainty of the future you expected.”

“Um. Yes. Yes. That’s exactly what I mean. Why are you being all thoughtful and insightful?”

“I know. What a dick, right?”

You laugh.

“It’s like after Anna. I just thought it would always just be me. Which is fine. Obviously. I am excellent company. First it was just me in prison. Then it was just me and murder and a cool flat, and nice clothes and endless beautiful women. That was going to be my future, until I ended up dead of course. And that was fine. I like those things. That was going to be it for me. And now it’s not.”

Amusement twists at you.

“Are you comparing the end of my sedate little marriage to giving up your life as a Bond villain?”

She laughs at that.

“Is that how you see me? Puss-“

“Don’t!” You laugh and hold up a hand to stop her. “Surely you see yourself as the bald one with the cat?”

“Dr Evil?” She says that seriously then sighs, “I’ve never had that much power. I’m a henchman not the boss.”

“Umm, Dr Evil isn't even from a Bond film?”

She smiles. Pleased to have bated you, possibly also pleased that you chose not to comment on her assessment of herself.

She interrupts your thoughts again.

“I’m Mayday. Villain turned ally after a double cross. Plus, stupidly hot.”

You laugh. “Of course. Who’s your favourite then?”

She hums in thought. “Le Chiffre. Good European accent and asthma. I like the breathy ones. Really does it for me”

You laugh again. Who was the last person to make you laugh this much?

“Ok, weirdo. I meant which actor playing Bond. Why do you know so much about Bond films anyway? I imagined you’d be more.....artsy than that.”

“Pretentious you mean?” But she smiles.

” Honestly? When I wasn’t working it’s....just been me. What else did I have to fill my time?”

“You just watched movies?”

“Yeah.”

“You owe me a movie night then.”

She tilts her head and bites her lip. “I owe you a lot of things.”

The shift from serious and slightly melancholy to seductive used to jar you. Now you just feel ...warm.

“Don’t start that now, it’s midnight here and I’m due into the office at eight tomorrow morning.”

She pulls a mock sad face. “Boo, you whore.”

“You’re a life ruiner. You ruin people’s lives.”

“Ouch. A little close to the bone don’t you think”

You smile softly at her.  
  


“Not from my perspective.”

She’s disarmed by the sentiment so you let it hang in the air for a moment before a thought occurs to you.

“Actually, let’s do that. What time are you free tomorrow? Let’s watch Mean Girls.”

“You’re serious?”

“You started it.”

“No, no I’m game. Just surprised.”

You feel....you feel light. She makes you light. She didn’t used to, she dredged up every complicated and unflattering thing in your psyche and forced you to sift through it. But since accepting her presence in your life rather than fighting it, she makes you light.

“Thank you, for tonight, I actually feel a lot better.”

She offers a shy smile and shrugs self deprecatingly.

“I just....”, you start.

“I just want to say something, then I’m going to hang up ok? I just....”

You pause and huff out a breath before trying again.

“You make me really happy. Like really stupidly happy. God I just want this to be finished and for you to come home, because I just miss you and want you and... other things. I don’t know. Just thanks I guess.”

She looks a bit startled but you push past so she doesn’t have the time to respond.

“So, yeah, let me know when you are free tomorrow.”

You hang up quickly, and you know that you are in love with her.

Fuck.


	5. Wednesday, Week Five

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Never let it be said that my stories are all talk and no trousers. 
> 
> Except for, of course, literally all my other stories which are precisely all talk and no trousers.
> 
> Hmm, upon reflection there maybe a reason for that. But it’s drafted now so...we are where we are.

Why are you so angry tonight?” You ask her.

It’s been a weird night. First she phoned you rather than using Zoom. That never happens. She’s spent the whole call poking and prodding you. Every scab that you thought even partly healed has been subjected to her sharp tongue and scratching claws this evening.

You’ve done your best to be calm and not rise to it. Partly out of concern about the source of her particularly volatile mood, but mostly because she’s a dickhead and you don’t want to give her the satisfaction.

“A more interesting question is why aren’t you angry?”

You breathe out slowly once. God this woman requires the patience of a fucking saint.

“I said why aren’t you angry? I shot you, I drove away your husband, you lost your friends, your job, your home. I took all of that from you just sit there and make eyes at me. Why aren’t you angry?”

You are suddenly grateful that she opted for the phone. The last thing you want now is her ever watchful gaze dissecting your every reaction.

“Who says I’m not angry. But maybe I’m not a fucking child who cant cope with more than one fucking emotion at once. Maybe I can be angry but can also wait to deal with it through grown up fucking conversation.”

Oh. Well there goes the whole not rising to it thing. One point to her you guess.

She’s silent.

“Look-“ you start, “- yeah I’m angry. If you want to rake through all the shit we’ve done to each other then….then…I’ll have to plug in my phone first.”

She makes a sound of gentle amusement. “That’s a shit come back.”

“Yeah, well. You’ve...pissed me off.”

“Good”

You sigh. “What is happening right now?”

She’s silent for so long you check to see if she’s hung up. She hasn’t.

“Its just been another bad day.”

“You needed to blow of some steam?”

“Something like that.”

“So you’ve decided you can’t fuck me so you want to fight instead?”

More silence.

“Stop knowing me. I don’t like it.”

You hum in response to that, quietly pleased by her admission, before continuing.

“But yes, I am angry with you, you’re probably angry with me too. We can deal with that when we are actually dealing with it. You don’t want to do....sex stuff.... when you’re wound up about work, that’s fine, but I don’t want to talk about the past when really you are angry at someone else in the present.”

She lets the silence hang for a moment. Possibly to consider her options.

“Urgh. You’re so mature. It’s annoying,”

There’s no sting behind her words any more.

“-and I think what I said was I didn’t want a first....whatever...to be when I’m pissed off about the job. I’m more than happy to work off a little steam in bed once we’re ....you know....together.”

“Its just going to be the first of lots. Why are you acting like an overly conscientious first boyfriend taking me to a big school dance?” You ask it with a soft voice and you hope she feels your amusement.

She tuts twice. “Girlfriend, Eve, girlfriend.”

“Sorry, its a lifetime of conditioning to overcome. Same difference though surely?”

She laughs then, its warm and genuine. “I am going to have so much fun with you.”

“I can’t wait.”

She hums a response again.

“So.....are you still pissed off about Carolyn?”

She’s quiet for a moment.

“Not right this second.”

Are you really going to do this? Are you feeling brave enough? No. Not at all.

“And...” You can’t help yourself.

“And?” She asks andher voice is lower and slow, you don’t think you’ve ever heard anything as sexy.

“And…what are you wearing?”

She barks out a loud laugh. 

“Look at you all grown up. A month ago you couldn’t even cope with a normal conversation and now you’re all about the phone sex”

“I wasn’t that bad.”

“Eve. Seriously.”

“Whatever. You’re killing the mood.”

“No I’m not. This is just how we do it. Sharp then soft, sharp then soft.”

“Which one of us is which?”

“We take turns don’t we? Its polite”

You sigh.

“Hold on, if we’re doing this I need to wedge this door closed.” She says it matter of factly.

Thats weird.

“Where are you?”

You hear her grunt with effort and the scrape of metal against….something. She exhales roughly.

“Not a hotel. Obviously.”

“Oh. Are you ok?”

“Yes, yes. I’m fine. Now are you ready yet?”

“Yes, so who goes first? You or me? Is it always this formal?”

“Well apparently with you it is. Just relax ok? Are you ready?”

“Hold on. Let me plug in my phone”

“God, hurry up or i’ll be finished before you even get your underwear off.” 

Her voice now full of mirth.

“Now you sound like a boyfriend”

She makes an appalled noise.

“I am impatient, not selfish. I’ll always get you there too.”  


She sounds so indignant and its the cutest thing you’ve ever heard.

You laugh as you wrestle with your charging lead and clothes.

“Ready?” She asks again.

“Yes...so what are you wearing?”  


Your voice sounds weird. You aren’t sure if it’s sexy weird or weird weird. Is there even such a thing as sexy weird? God, this was a mistake. How do you extricate yourself from phone sex you initiated? Why did you press for this? For fucks sake.

You could just hang up? No, too cowardly and she’d probably ring back anyway. Or maybe-

“Hey.” She interrupts you, her voice still pitched low.

“Relax ok. Let me drive for a while.” 

That irks you.

“I can...drive....just fine. Thank you.”

She laughs lightly. 

“I’m sure and I can’t wait for you to show me. But let me do it this time, ok?”

She must sense your reluctance to let go so she continues.

“You’re the boss in all the important ways, and who knows you might end up being the boss of this too but for now....just let me...ok?”

It couldn’t hurt to let her take the reigns here. It’s not like you really know what you are doing, you just didn’t like the thought of her being at such an advantage about this. You want her to know that you can be every bit the confident seductress that she is. 

But the thought of her voice in your ear whispering all the way she wants to touch you? In that accent? Fuck yes.

“Alright.”

“Good. Now, tell me, when you’re alone, where do you start?”

“...my tits.”

“Perfect. Touch your tits the way I would do it.”

A whimper creeps out of your throat as you do as she says.

“How would I touch you?”

“Gently.....to start with”

“That’s right. But I’m impatient remember, so I need more.”

You hiss out a yes as you pinch a nipple.

“Are you wearing a bra?”

“Yes.”

The response is instant. “Take it off.”

“Take yours off too, tell me what you’re doing, please”. 

You hate that the please slips out but then she makes the most delicate little gasping sigh and you know you’d happily beg if only to hear it again.

“I’m touching my tits and imagining it’s your mouth, and touching my clit and thinking of your fingers on me.”  


You hear her moan.

Fuck. You slip your hand inside your underwear, and you’re so fucking wet. Of course you are. Then you try to find a way to do that, hold the phone and touch your tits at the same time.

Suddenly a thought flashes across your mind. 

“Am I on loud speaker?”

“AirPods. I’ll buy you some. Take your underwear off.”

You do as she says, it’s impossible not to. 

“Touch yourself, just your clit.” You follow her instructions, touching and listening to her moans and sighs.

“Are you wet for me?” She asks

“Fuck, yes.”

“Keep going.” You do and for a while just listening to her and imagining is enough. 

Until it isn’t.

“Please, Oksana, I need more.”

“Fuck, baby. Put your fingers inside yourself. Fuck yourself the way I would fuck you.” That gasping sigh again. 

It’s all too easy to imagine, your fingers are hers and she’s fucking you and it’s so fucking hot.

“Please...” it slips out again but you don’t care this time.

“Tell me, please, tell me what you want me to do.” She begs and her voice is strained and you imagine how close she is, what she must look like.

“Your mouth, fuck, Oksana, I want you to use your mouth.”

“Yes, baby, I want that too. I want you above me, riding my mouth, letting me fuck you with my tongue-“ her voice breaks and you hear a moan and she’s coming. 

You move your fingers back to your clit and it isn’t going to take long. Then her voice in your ear again, “come on baby, I want to hear you. Please”

So you do. Your body tenses and fuck knows what sounds you make for her because all you can think about is her voice, her mouth, her eyes, her fingers.

Then it’s over and you listen to her breathe.

“Not bad. For your first time.”  


Of course that’s the first thing she says to you.

“Oh please, you came first.”

You laugh suddenly. “This conversation did not turn out the way I expected.”

”I don’t know, you’re normally all flustered when I annoy you. I always wondered whether you were just annoyed, or a bit annoyed and a bit turned on.”

”Well now you have you’re answer.”

She laughs. “God. I want to kiss you.”

“How have we done this but never really kissed?” You ask her.

“Bad fucking timing” she laments.

“Yeah.”

“Yours I mean”

You murmur an acknowledgement but say nothing.

“Only a few more weeks.” Her voice is flat and you wonder whether she believes it herself.

Something tightens in your stomach. The closer you get to week seven the further away it feels.    
  


Do you really trust Carolyn? Or do seven weeks become eight, become nine, become forever, or until she’s dead. 

You can’t say any of that to her. Not with her voice so unsure, not after....that.

So you lie.

“Yeah. It’s only two weeks then you’re free.”


	6. Sunday, Week Six

“Jesus, what happened to your face?”

Its the first time you’ve seen her in twelve days. You speak to her every night. Sometimes also throughout the day by text. But this is the first time you’ve actually seen her in almost two weeks. 

Its like you’ve never seen her before. The patch work of blue and yellow across her jaw, the scrape along her cheek, the split skin at her eyebrow.

“That is very rude of you.” She looks away and the light catches a particularly prominent bruise near her ear.

“Fuck, what happened?”

She turns her face and starts inspecting her nails. 

“Oh you know, thrown from a car. Turns out Carolyn likes it a little rougher than The Twelve.”

“What does that mean?”

She drags a strand of hair in front of her face distractedly and pulls it tight before releasing.

“It means that what she wants is….not as neat….the marks not so unsuspecting of danger, the time I’m given to plan isn’t what it could be. The upside is that I’m struggling less and less with the morality of it all. So not all bad.”

You hate it when she’s like this, flippant and untouchable. 

“You’re joking.” You say.

“Not really.” She’s examining her nails again.

You feel sick. You didn’t say anything when Carolyn offered her this but you knew it wouldn’t just be as simple as she made out. You just wanted....you wanted a route to a normal life with her. Normal ish at least. 

Everything comes with a price, Carolyn had said, it just hasn’t been you who’s hadto pay it.

How fucking selfish.

“I don’t think we can trust her.”

She looks at you cooly.

“Just dawning on you now is it?”

“Why are you going along with her then?”

Her face is incredulous.

“You had better be fucking joking to ask me that.” Her voice is dangerously quiet.

You don’t know how to respond, she doesn’t give you an option regardless.

“You made it clear before. You don’t want to always have to run, to live in hiding, you didn’t want Alaska. You made it clear that if I want you it has to be on your terms. Carolyn’s offer seemed like the one you’d find more palatable so I took it.”

You shake your head. “No, I didn’t want this.”

She scoffs a laugh.

“Well this is how what you wanted translates to real life. You’ve known what she wanted from me, you wanted something too and you decided that what you wanted was worth me doing this. So stop with the fake surprise. You don’t like looking at my face when it’s wearing the price of the life you want? Well we’ll go back to the phone I guess but don’t give me this shit. This pretend shock. Just don’t.”

You both sit in silence. She turns her face to the side and the bruises scream at you.

This isn’t what you wanted.

“This isn’t worth it.” 

The words are out of your mouth and her gaze snaps back to you immediately. You think she looked less betrayed when you stabbed her. Christ.

“No, no, no. Not like that. Not like that at all. Just listen. Whatever future Carolyn is offering it’s not worth this. I don’t want you hurt. I don’t want this.”

She doesn’t say anything.

“What are our options?” You ask her.

“Our options?”

“Yes. Our options.”

She gives a sulky half shrug.

“I see only two. I can carry on with Carolyn, exacting whatever revenge helps her sleep at night, or I can run.”

“No. We can run. It’s not just you any more. Remember.”

She looks at you for a long moment, considering your face. You think she is trying to gauge how serious you are.

God you want to touch her. To press your certainty into her skin so she can feel how real it is.

“If we run now, there will not be another chance with Carolyn. Any future with her protection from The Twelve will be gone.”

“Yes. I know.”

“Do you? For you it means no real home. Moving constantly. You’ll probably need to kill again”

You open your mouth as if to respond but she speaks over you.

“And for me it means burning the last of the bridges. I won’t be able to stop running once I start, so when....if you change your mind and want to go home then I just have to keep running .....alone.”

Oh. You understand now. She’s going to have to throw away her life again, and she doesn’t trust that you won’t change your mind. Well. You can’t entirely blame her.

“I’ve let you down before. I know that. But I’m asking you to trust me again. If you run, i’ll run too. I promise. I can’t promise that this will work or that I’ll stay forever but I want to. I think that’s the best I can offer.”

She nods slowly but says nothing.

“I shouldn’t have just let this happen. I was selfish or naive or something. I saw the cuts and bruises and let it carry on. I’m really sorry.”

She shrugs a shoulder.

  
You think that she isn’t used to people apologising to her.

“Tell me what to do and I’ll do it.”

She puffs her cheeks and slowly breathes out.

“Give me a week. Don’t call me or contact me. I’ll...get things ready.” 

She’s stopped looking at you again, she won’t meet your eye.

“Really?”

“Yes. Be sad at work, tell people you were seeing someone and it didn’t work out.”

“Oh ok. Yes. I can do that. Should I pack?”

“No.”

“Oksana? Will you look at me?”

She does grudgingly.

“Are we ok?”

“Ok enough for me to sabotage my life again I guess.” She says it sulkily.

“Right but, are we ok?”

She exhales roughly and scrapes her hair up above her head.

“I don’t know. We’re ok enough for now.”

“Ok. So we’re doing this?”

“I guess. You could perhaps have mentioned that we couldn’t trust Carolyn before I was thrown from a car but...” She shrugs.

“I know. I’m sorry.”

Should you tell her now? You aren’t sure. You can’t help it.

“I want to tell you that I-“

“Don’t.” She says it harshly and looks furious again.

“Don’t try to pacify me. I don’t want it like that.”

Shit. Well you have fucked up pretty much every part of this conversation so far why not this too.

“That’s not what I.... Sorry.”

“I don’t want it now. I’m pissed off with you, and I want to be pissed off so don’t.”

“Ok.” 

More silence. It’s too much so you have to say something.

“It’s going to be weird not speaking to you for a week, after doing it every day for so long.” 

She huffs a laugh. “Yeah. It’s been nice.”

A thought nags at you.

“You are going to bring me with you aren’t you? You’re not going to just disappear?” 

You hate how needy it sounds.

She gives you an odd look.

“I’m pissed off with you. It doesn’t mean I don’t love you.”

Well that’s unfair.

“Why are you allowed to say it and I can’t?”

She looks at you as if you’ve said something stupid.

“Because I’ve said it before. Yours will be a first and it should be saved for a candle lit dinner or for after I’ve fucked you or something. Not because you’re trying to sort out an argument.”

“You’re obsessed with firsts”

“You only get them once. I fucked mine up but we get another chance with yours.”

“Ok.”

“Ok?” She asks.

“Yeah. But you know...”

“Yes. I know.”


	7. Friday, Week Seven

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I’ve cheated a bit on this chapter. I know the premise of the story is conversations over phone\zoom but I wanted to give Eve a chance to have a quick think before plunging straight in. 
> 
> So this chapter is more my bread and butter, lots of thinking not a lot of chat. 
> 
> Actually I feel that I’m over billing it there....there is no chat. Like actually zero chat.
> 
> Also, thanks again for the comments on the last chapter. I’m normally good at responding but it was an annoying work day yesterday so I haven’t had an opportunity yet. Really I wasn’t sure about the last chapter so all encouragement is appreciated.

The process of leaving your life behind comes more easily than you’d imagined. 

She said not to pack, which on the one hand made things easier but you imagined that you would feel…something….about leaving behind all the things that you have accumulated over the course of your life. 

But you feel nothing. 

Well thats not true, you feel everything. 

You feel everything for the first time since Rome. A part of you nags that this can’t last forever and one day you will wake up and remember that you threw away everything you had spent your life building, but then you think of her and the thought is gone. Its always been like that though, worries and concerns that used to tether you to day to day life recede in your never ending obsession with her. 

So you phoned your mother. You spent all your nectar points on your last weekly shop full of over priced niceties that you normally skip. You checked all the windows were locked before you left. You took the night bus to a small airport in South London and got on a charter flight to Spain with five boorish businessmen.  


It was easy and now its done.

You sit on the tarmac in the still warm night air and watch the crew refill the plane, waiting for them to usher you back on board for the next limb of your journey. 

Your hand holds tight to the backpack that arrived via courier earlier in the week. She sent you two passports, a new mobile phone, a car key and forty thousand euro because…of course.

Her instructions were hand written, you kept the note. Her cursive script setting out where and when and how, ending with, “I cant wait to see you baby. Xx” . You were seventeen again and something fluttered in your chest. What a sap she has made of you.

You hid the backpack in your flat, and didn't take it out again until tonight. It was a weird week. You hadn’t quite appreciated how much of the last six weeks she had taken up until suddenly she wasn’t. It was silent. You were alone. It felt strange.

You watched tv alone and you missed her annoying commentary. You cooked alone and missed her criticising the way you chop onions. You missed the way that she has wedged herself in your life, even from however many miles away.

But soon that distance won’t exist, she’ll interrupt movies from the sofa next to you and she’ll tut at your cooking across from you in the kitchen.The protection afforded by how ever many miles, and a phone that could just be switched off, will be gone. 

Fuck.

Obviously you want the distance gone. You want her with you. But its also a little bit daunting. This person you have reshaped your life around, that you have obsessed over for more than two years and she’ll be there, flesh and blood, with you all day, every day, forever.

What if she snores? Or she eats the last biscuit and puts the empty packet back in the cupboard? What if she never lets the bath water out? What if the sex is terrible?  


You’ve never even kissed for fucks sake. Not properly. The bus wasn’t a real kiss. You wonder how she would categorise it with her obsession over firsts.  


Really though, what if the sex is a disaster. Fine, the phone sex was hot, but that’s all about the anticipation. What if all that aching want and passion don’t happen when it comes to it in real life?

What if she turns out not to like you as much as she thinks she does?

There are all things people ought to know before they sign up for the rest of their lives aren’t they? Because in essence that is what you have done.

You had six weeks to ask these questions. Suddenly, the all the cooking, shared meals and tv seem like a bit of a missed opportunity.

What do you really know about her? What do you know that could make you certain that this could actually work long term?

You like watching tv with her. Ok. Thats a start.

She can cook, or at least she thinks she can cook. If she’s right it’s a good thing, if she’s wrong it’s annoying. 

Her bedroom is often a mess. Well. You can’t really throw stones on that one. 

She sits on the floor more often than the sofa. You imagine sitting on the sofa behind her, your legs tucked under you whilst you run your fingers absently through her hair. The thought makes your heart ache. 

You can argue and then find a way to resolve it well enough. 

She makes you laugh. 

  
People marry for less you suppose.

There is still a way out. There are forty thousand euros in your bag. You could go into the small terminal and book a seat on then next private plane going back to London. You’ve blown your nectar card balance on £4 punnets of apricots but the rest of your life is still in tact. That window is closing though. 

You think of her waiting for you to step off the plane wherever it is heading next. You wonder if she’ll have slept tonight or if she’ll be sitting wherever home is going to be for the next however long, worrying about the same things you are. That doesn’t ring true though, where you have doubts she has always been sure. There is something comforting about that.

There is some activity in front of you and you guess that they are going to ask you to board soon. You look to the terminal. Warmly lit and with nicely kept plants lining the walkway into the main entrance from the runway.

Plane or terminal? Known or unknown? Safety or risk?

You pull the note she left you in the bag. 

I can’t wait to see you baby. Xx

The flutters are in your chest again.

You don’t think about her mouth, abstract as it was to you when you said it the first time. You think about her smile. Her joy. Her.

Fuck it. There was never a choice to be made at all. 


	8. Saturday, Week Seven

“This is weird. Do you feel weird?” 

You turn to catch her pulling a bemused face, but she keeps her eyes on the road.

“I think you are being weird if that’s what you mean?”

Great.

It is weird though. It was weird when you walked down the steps from the plane onto the tarmac. It was weird when you handed in your ‘new’ passport at immigration. Tallulah fucking Shark. That is the last time you tell her anything , you swear it.

It was weird when you first saw her in the tiny room that passed for an arrivals hall. It was weird when she was a real person, with hands lightly pressed into the skin on your cheeks after so long since the last time you touched. 

If she felt any of that weirdness she didn’t let it show at all. She stroked a hand down your face and onto your neck, kept the other on your cheek and smiled as she kissed you, as if she had done it a hundred times before.

You’re less worried about whether the sex will be terrible at least.

But it didn’t make this less weird. In fact it has made it worse.

She’s driving you back to...wherever home is going to be and she looks...fine...she looks calm and relaxed and effortless. You, on the other hand, feel like your stomach is slowly knitting into itself.

This silence has gone on too long. 

“You don’t think it’s weird, all we know about each other and now we’re together in person, and we’ve never really been together, not properly.”

Wait, that didn’t come out right.

She casts you a sideways look.

“Are you asking me to pull over so we can fuck in the car?”

“No!”

“Good, I hate car sex. If it was now or never I’d do it, obviously, but I have long legs, you know? Cars aren’t built for people like me to have sex in them. The designs are....heightist.”

You’re pretty sure that bar a few extreme examples, there really isn’t anywhere on Earth you couldn’t have sex with her. You choose not to share that thought. Not yet at least.

“Ok.... I meant that....I don’t know, like you’ve never driven me anywhere. I don’t know what your driving is like.”

“I’m driving you somewhere now, and I am an excellent driver”

This is like pulling teeth.

“Don’t be a dick. You know what I mean.”

She sighs.

“You’re nervous. That’s ok. You didn’t know me outside of a case file not too long ago, getting to know me hasn’t been so bad has it?”

“Of course not.”

“So this is no different. You can watch me drive, learn what I’m like in person. You might even find that you like me.”

“I do like you.”

“So what are you worried about?”

You laugh. “God you’re annoying. Why am I like this and you are so....chill?”

She grins. “Is this the first time you’ve said chill in a sentence?”

“Shut up.” You say it was a smile.

“Ok. So you want to hear how I am not chill? That will make you relax?”

“Yes.”

She takes a deep breath. “Ok. So. I’ve been in the house since Wednesday. I’ve rearranged the furniture four times. 

I just can’t stop thinking, you know? Will you want to sit on the sofa in the evenings or would you prefer the chairs to be in front of the tv so you can have some space? 

Ive bought two different thickness duvets because I don’t know if you like to be cool or warm when you sleep.

I bought wine. A lot. All different types because I don’t know your favourite. 

I bought a weeks worth of shopping then threw it all out because I thought it would be cute to go to the shop together. 

... and I can’t stop thinking about whether I’m allowed to put my hand on your leg whilst I’m driving.”

She pauses.

As far as evidence of a lack of chill goes, it’s a pretty good speech. You remember then that this is the girl who killed to get you to notice her, who gladly throws away everything else she says she wants so she can have you instead. She’s chill on the surface because that’s what she does. But she is also the girl that worries about whether the layout of the furniture will be to your taste. Maybe things aren’t as imbalanced as you thought.

  
You do actually feel a little better.

Christ, she’s also the girl who knows what to say when you are upset and anxious. When did that happen?

“Am I not chill enough for you to relax now?”

“I can’t believe you wasted a weeks worth of food.” 

“Yeah...well...”

“You can touch my leg by the way.”

“Oh. Oh ok. Good” 

Her hand settles on your thigh and you cover it with yours.

“Don’t waste food again. It really bugs me.”

“Ok.”

You watch the scenery zip past the window.

“You’re not chill then?”

“Not even a little.” She answers.

“Good.”

The car is quiet for a while and you watch the motorway stretch out ahead of you.

“Oksana?”

She hums in acknowledgement, and turns her face to you briefly.

“Can I say it now? Because if you are waiting for a romantic moment to do it, I think that was it.”

She sighs regretfully.

“Seriously? In the car? Where you know I’m not going to do anything about it? You are the worst.

“So?”

“Urgh. Go on then.” 

But she’s smiling and it’s perfect. 

So you say it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So...that’s it.
> 
> Firstly, an apology to NeverGiveUpOnMe who made a polite request for trousers, and I have duly failed to deliver. The chapter had to be set in the car and the views on car sex are my own. I still bear the scars of a traumatic teenage fumble involving an unfortunately placed and unnecessarily sharp CD case. The youth of today will never know that particular struggle. So I couldn’t get into it. Maybe next time.
> 
> Thank you everyone who read this and to those who commented. A particular thank you to those who indulged my hair cut moaning and my love of Mean Girls.
> 
> There is something new cooking but it might take a bit longer than usual.
> 
> See you next time.


End file.
